


Deal with the Devil

by ArisenFromNightmares



Series: Queen of Queens [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisenFromNightmares/pseuds/ArisenFromNightmares
Summary: An overworked Guardian Angel, a Trickster working for Satan, and a loser all enter a room?What's the worst that could happen?





	Deal with the Devil

This is a story.

While not entirely based in reality, it has very real implications of a mind that’s reached the very limits of “being strong”.

It is said that every person has a guardian angel, someone who watches over them and guides them through life with a gentle nudge here and there. For most people, this spirit is usually a loved one that has passed from this world, their presence would serve to motivate and drive them towards whatever goal they wished to achieve.

The individual in this story however, wasn’t as fortunate.

“ _Good grief, you try and nudge a guy towards a practical goal and he **still** manages to screw up.” _Bolton was the lowest of the low when it came to guardian angels, not even given the right to have a divine name. Instead he was given a mere seven-digit number and assigned to a low priority case: A depressed man who had seemingly peaked in high school but had failed to carry that motivation to his later years. “ _I honestly don’t know what else to do with this guy, I’ve tried steering him towards employment and he quits, I’ve tried steering him towards getting help and he doesn’t carry on the lessons!”_ The angel would look at his reflection in the mirror and slick back his dirty blonde hair, unlike the other angels Bolton liked to keep himself corporeal and interact with the human world around him. Traveling the streets in a tan suit and white button-up shirt meant that he always drew a look wherever he went, even if it was just to buy another half-dozen Sonoran Hot Dogs.

“Honestly seńor Bolton, you’re going to get pudgy if you keep eating like this.” The elderly Hispanic woman would give a whimsical smile as she counted out the money handed to her, which she promptly set aside in a small wooden box before sliding the bag of food towards him. “Although if we’re being totally honest, you’ve done a lot to help this old woman build her nest egg.” She would set the box aside before preparing to give him his change from their transaction.

“Keep it, have a little more for that nest egg of yours.” Bolton would give a kind smile before feeling the phone in his pocket hum to life, his expression turning sour. “Goodness, it seems like my ward has gotten into trouble once again.” To keep from coming off as a well-dressed bum, Bolton had come up with the idea of comparing his work to that of a social worker tasked with looking after a certain individual.

“Ayy, I guess I’ll have to head down to the church and light another candle for him today.” The old woman would frown solemnly before making the sign of the cross and whispering a prayer before giving him a hope-filled smile. “You should bring him by sometime, I’m sure some good food will perk him up.”

The angel would give a wink as he collected his hot dogs for the day and gave a friendly wave goodbye even as the vibration in his pocket had not ceased and stifling a groan, this was probably something that could wait until after his meal after all.

* * * * *

People think Heaven is some great paradise, a place filled with ambrosia and clouds that act like pillows.

But for Bolton (or #8756565 as his ID card designated him) it was what the humans would call a “DMV”. Lines that end in you being given a number and told to stand in another line, before being given a plethora of forms to sign while the lines around you inch forward towards getting an appointment with The Director.

The man who would ultimately decide whether the individual in question was worthy of whether they would be allowed to enter the True Paradiso, or to be given the red form and told to get on the escalator.

“Where the goodness have you been 65, we’ve been trying to reach you for the last frizzing hour?!” The receptionist, a rather charming redhead with a strange habit of saying anything and everything she could to avoid cursing. “You were down in the human world again weren’t you. Were you even watching over your ward this time, or were you sampling the local cuisine again?”

Bolton would groan as he slid his ID card into the scanner and stared at the great clock hanging overhead, it symbolized how close they were towards entering the Final Battle with the Other Side. “Still five minutes away eh, guess everybody’s doing their best to balance out the Cheeto Debacle.” The blonde guardian would chuckle at the thought of his compatriots going nuts over a certain incident not going to plan, although Bolton himself considered the new Ultra Spicy Cheetos a treasure and always made sure to snag a bag whenever he found a location that carried them. “Honestly, it’s just a very bold flavor of snack food that’ll be discontinued by next year. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go file my report with the D.”

The receptionist would wave him away without another word as the lax guardian made his way past the current line of waiting souls, waving his ID card teasingly at the sea of agitated faces as he did a two-step up to The Director’s door and walked in without bothering to knock. “What’s up now Big D, I gave you the report already and I swear to on high that all those expenditures at those restaurants were just me shadowing my guy.”

The Director would simply respond with a scowl as he simply pointed a weathered hand to the seat in front of him, using the type of heated glare that was reserved for only the most repugnant of sinners.

“Double 65 I honestly couldn’t care less about your strange food cravings, or your reports- which are so badly written by the way that it makes the stuff doctors bring in look like fine-tuned calligraphy.” His glare would only harden as the suit-wearing angel would carefully make his way over to the Seat of Judgment and sit without cracking another joke, the bearded man would calmly fold his hands into a pyramid as he stared at the now placid guardian angel. “You’re a good egg 65, you’ve led some good folks to their proper destination in life: Presidents, military leaders, even a few Saints. Therefore, The Chief decided to reassign you to a different soul.”

 

This would cause Bolton’s pulse to freeze, expecting another tongue-lashing from the Director for his less-than-Paragon behavior and yet, he was instead being offered a chance to ascend towards getting a proper Divine Name. “Uhh, Director, not that I’m one to look a gift horse in the mouth here buuut…who’s replacing me on my current soul?” The blond would go quiet as he waited for a proper answer, the silence was maddening as each second seemed to pass by with the speed of a sloth. “There IS a replacement lined up right, I mean- sure he’s a little naffed up in the head but he’s got the potential to be someone great!”

 

“He’s been marked as a Washout, not much left for you to guide at that point now is there? Chief wants his people working on keeping up the progress of the people.” The Director would spread out several new files on prospective souls, ignorant of the other man’s shock as the world below them was being displayed via hologram.

“ _Suicide? Shit, I knew he was going through some rough waters, but I didn’t think it was THAT bad!”_ Washouts weren’t a common occurrence in the line of duty, but it usually happened because of some major life blunders on the soul’s part. “Sir, surely there’s someone who can take over my job. I mean, a situation like this is what we Guardian Angels were made for!” He didn’t even notice how desperate his voice had become until The Director’s expression became confused.

“I was sure that you’d be relieved to hear this news Double 65, I’ve been reading your reports and noting your frustration at his..”condition”, figured you’d like to start things over with a clean slate.” The bearded man would frown before regathering the files and giving a slight sigh, it was clear that there was something weighing on the Guardian’s mind. “Take a walk Double 65, give yourself some time to think it over.”

Bolton would nod quietly as he exited the office and made a beeline back to the world below.

* * * * *

By the time Bolton returned to the city where his protected soul called home, grateful to see the familiar glow of a television coming from the window as he phased through the walls of the double-wide home, not surprised to see the man he was tasked to watch over was asleep in his bed even as a YouTube video played on the television.

“Hmm, _Super Fighting Robot…_ I could think of a thousand better Let’s Plays to conk out to.” The Guardian Angel would sigh and settle down on the stained shag carpet, trying hard not to shake his head at the messy bookshelves behind him. “Honestly, I really don’t get you buddy. You have all of this intelligence, all this creativity, so WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO FUCKING DEPRESSING!!!” The angel would let out a scream as he laid in a flurry of punches on the man he was meant to protect, heaving a few deep breaths as he clenched his hands tightly.

“Geez, you Angels are overworked.” The smell of sulfur would fill the room as a purple-haired teenager entered the room from beneath the bookshelf, a black trench coat hiding the athame he kept sheathed in his belt. “Kinda makes me really happy that I joined the Other Side, we’re more..free-form  in our business policies.” The teen would grab the PS4 controller off the floor and cue up an abridged anime series and hunker down on the bed, glancing over at the sleeping human curled up next to him. “Yeeah, that’s a blood clot waiting to happen. If not flat-out Deep Vein Thrombosis.”

Bolton would look over at the intruder with an annoyed look on his face, not expecting someone else to know the location of the house. “What’s someone from your department even doing here, he’s not even someone of merit!”

“Wow, way to flip on your own assignment. Speaking of which, that’s exactly why I’m in this shithole.” The teen would stop to laugh at a joke in the show before quickly unlocking the human’s cell phone and rifling through the image gallery, snickering at what was found within. “Man, what a weeb. Anyways, this guy got designated as a washout and his file got kicked over to our office, naturally I get the job of keeping this dumbass here on the yellow brick road to Hell.”

Bolton would take a few seconds to consider what he was being told and immediately reaching into his suit pocket for a weapon, only to feel the cold steel of the other man’s Athame against his neck. “You’ve gotta be shitting me if you think I’m gonna bleed for this guy, you want this space case then be my guest. The higher-ups wanted to reassign me anyhow, maybe now my freaking talents can be put to use-“ The Angel would stop talking as he felt the sharpened kiss of the blade slice his neck open, causing the remainder of his words to come out as a mess of gurgled noises before falling to his knees and disappearing, leaving behind only a single glowing angel feather.

The proverbial devil-on-the-shoulder would kneel down and collect the remain with a pleasant smile. “Well the boys back at the office are gonna get a kick outta this, after all it’s not everyday that we kill a guardian-“ As soon as he had gathered the feather in hand, it would shudder and turn into a small pile of sand. “Oh you weak piece of shit! I’m never gonna live this one down.”

The sounds of snorting and coughing would cause the young man to look over at the now awake man struggling to make sense of the scene in front of him, no doubt the sight of a bloody carpet stain and a stranger were bound to set off alarm bells.

“Who the fuck-“ The violet-haired teen would quickly point the still-bloody weapon at the half-awake man and glare as harshly as he could. “Really if you’re gonna kill me then you’d only be doing me a favor: I’m a loser, live in constant physical pain, and have never known the touch of a woman who didn’t immediately crack a joke at my gargoyle face.”

The trench coat wearing teen would roll his eyes at the amount of cliché in what he heard before wiping the blood off of his weapon and giving it a small but classy spin and standing over his prey, although something about what he had said would pique the dark soul’s interests. “Say buddy, if you could spend the day with any woman- before I gut you like a stuffed pig of course, who in the hell would possibly be?” He would raise his eyebrow curiously as the apparently ‘pained” individual would start looking around for something, finally stopping when he noticed the phone in hand. “Yeah, sorry about that pal. I get bored easily on this job and raiding people’s phones is just hilarious, by the way- your phone gallery is a LOT less Otaku then your setup here makes it look. So I’m guessing it’s one of the nice illustrated ladies in the Gallery?”

“Actually, I kept a list of potential somebodies in my memo app. It’s listed under Queen of Queens.” The man would carefully gather up his blankets and try to get somewhat comfortable despite the fact that he was now having a semi-pleasant conversation with a teenager holding a bloody dagger, the lethal object doing little to inspire fear despite the previous atmosphere of death in the area. “See, I’m a bit of flake when it comes to making a decision myself so I was gonna decide the mess with-“

“Stop right there buddy, I’ve run that Hunger Games Simulator on the internet and their maximum size is forty-eight. And by my count here, your list is sixty-three clams deep with an unclaimed “Wild Card” slot.” The violet-haired young man would gloss over the list of names with the slightest noise of approval, it was a veritable murderers row of body types, personalities, and even a few villains. “I’m surprised at the lack of loli’s here though, although given that you read _Freezing_ it’s pretty clear that you already have something of a preference. Now will you please answer my previous question, you can’t exactly toss ‘em all into the kill blender now can ya?”

The other man would yawn loudly as he laid back on his pillow with a relaxed expression.

“Sixty-Four-woman tournament, last woman standing would be the obligatory Waifu until I finally decide to cram my mouth full of those pain pills on the nightstand around New Years Eve or so.” He would stare up at the ceiling as if trying to compose his thoughts, before looking over at the black-clad trespasser with something resembling of a frown. “And yes; I get that there’s no conceivable way that any of those women would put up with me for five minutes, let alone the time between now and New Year’s Eve.”

The dark soul would quietly contemplate this in his head, it was true that given this idiot’s current living situation that no self-respecting female would even give this schmuck the time of day. But unlike the Guardian Angel’s he wasn’t bound by some laundry list of rules and regulation, he had Devil Magic up his sleeve and since the thought of seeing so many different individuals tear themselves apart to win this piece of crap’s probably cholesterol-ridden heart was tickling the funny bone, there was only one thing left for him to do.

“Heh, say if it were possible for this little fever dream of yours to become a reality. The chance to spend the remainder of your days with the Waifu of Your dreams, what would you be willing to give up?” He would toss the phone back to its owner and sheathe the Athame before reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out a contract and his trusty _Megadeth_ pen, the man in the bed giving a quizzical look before setting his cell phone down. “Because depending on what your answer is, I may just be able to make that impossible dream **very** possible.” The demonic glint in his eyes would cast the room in a harsh red glow, finally serving to instill the first instance of fear into his prey.

The man in the bed would gulp visibly as he sat up slowly, the depth of his situation finally sinking in as he contemplated trying to run before thinking better of it. “I-If you can really do that, if you’re not pulling my leg..then I’ll pay any price! I don’t care if it means torture for Eternity, I just..i’m tired of the way things are now.” He would clench his fists tightly before wincing in pain and reaching for the bottle of pills, downing one without much effort despite having nothing to lubricate his dry throat. “So yeah, you make this happen..and I’ll sell my soul to the Devil himself!”

The red-eyed teen would grin as he handed over his favorite pen, the contract moving itself to the Signature page as the poor sap signed without as much as a second thought.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass the message onto El Jefe when I get back to the office. Now, before I go I’m gonna need that phone one more time.” He would give another noise of approval before copying this “Queen of Queens” list to his own mobile device, the first name would cause him to smile with murderous glee.

_“Oh this shit’s gonna be fun…”_

 

 


End file.
